


I'm a Man Who Can't Say No

by Lady_Ganesh



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: About that one thing anyway, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Couch Sex, First Time, M/M, Maybe Nii Was Right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:18:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9475328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: Sperm donation was easy money, right?Right?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [opalmatrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/gifts).



> Thanks so much to Emungere for betaing.
> 
> Title is from Billy Joel's "Easy Money," because of course it is.

"Mr. Sable?"

Julian was startled away from his magazine ( _Maxim,_ an old issue but with plenty of busty girls) by the nurse's voice. 

"Thank you for finishing the questionnaire, if you'll just come with me…."

The 'questionnaire' had been a life history, going three generations back, and he'd just been lucky that his half-brother had cared enough about that stuff to go on those genealogical websites to look it up. Luckier still that Cyrus had burned his parents' note and their death was listed as a car accident. A history of mental illness was an instant out.

At any rate, it had been enough to get him past the first stage. The pretty nurse ushered him back into a neat little office, and he waited, wishing he'd brought his magazine, until a man in a collared shirt and no tie came in, shook his hand too vigorously, and sat at the desk. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Sable. I'm John. Sorry for all the fuss, but we want to do the best by the families we serve, and honestly, it’s something of a buyer’s market."

"I hadn't realized." He'd just figured he could jerk off in a cup and make some cash. By the time he'd started having second thoughts he'd already done so much work it seemed way too late to change his mind. "So...you're the psychological evaluation? Do you really--what do you do?"

"I’m a therapist,” John said, leaning back in his chair. "But don’t worry--we just talk. Families want someone, you know. Personable. No inkblots or anything, I promise. Basically, if we're lucky, we have a nice chat and you're cleared to jerk off into a cup."

"It seems like a lot of work," he said.

John shrugged genially. "I'm cheaper than lab work."

“Does that work? You can tell if I’m an okay--donor after a chat?”

“Most sociopaths can beat any personality test you throw at them,” John said matter-of-factly. “When I’m on this end, I’m mostly here to try to reassure the families that you can carry on a pleasant conversation and give them some notes on your temperament, if you’re quiet or chatty, that kind of thing. Honestly, though, it does mean something to them. It’s not just a little vial of stuff that way. It’s a little vial from someone who’s more real, who I’ve seen and spoken to.”

“You said ‘when I’m on this end.’ What’s the other end?”

“I work with the families, too,” he said. “Sometimes it’s infertility, sometimes it’s a single mother, sometimes it’s a genetic problem--but this isn’t an easy process. It can feel demeaning, impersonal.” He waved at the paperwork in front of him. “I think you probably already figured that out.”

Julian sure had. “So what do we talk about?” 

“First you tell me why you’re here,” John said. “I know you filled out a bunch of forms and talked on the phone. Tell me, in your own words. How you got from--” He glanced down. “West Texas to here.”

So Julian did. Not about Mom; they’d probably looked all that crap up already. But about how when times were bad he’d drawn, and then painted, and how Ms. Kane took a shine to him and that had turned into art school, with a part-time job waiting tables, and how now he was an artist and still waiting tables. And that he was starting to get some design work, but it wasn’t enough. And how money was time, and if he could just have more time--

“Thanks for not giving me any bullshit about helping the world, by the way,” John said as he took notes.

“Well, I mean--I don’t _not_ want to help people,” Julian said. “It’s just...it ain’t what got me in the door, I guess.”

“You’re lucky,” John said. “Ph.D. craze is mostly over, and that whole STEAM thing’s got people interested in arts. We’ve had more and more couples asking for mixed-race donors, too, especially people like you who can pass.” His eyes flicked up to Julian’s face. “It comes in trends.”

“That’s...weird.”

“You’re right. It’s weird,” John said. “You’re taking this all pretty well. That’s one of the things that we look for. Hell, resiliency is trendy. If we told them about your stepmom, you might get _more_ requests.”

“You don’t--you--” His mouth went a little dry. “That’s not genetic.”

“I’m sorry,” John said. “I need _some_ kind of reaction from you. It’s in the criteria.”

“You got it,” Julian said darkly, and not for the first time he remembered that he _wanted_ the money more than _needed_ it, that he was paying his bills between the work he had and the shifts he was picking up, and he could just walk out the door if they gave him too much shit.

But he wanted that extra time.

“Tell me about the kind of work you do,” John said, as smoothly as if he hadn’t just poked a cheerful finger into Julian’s nightmares. “Says you’re an artist, but that could mean anything.”

Okay. John could shift gears, so could Julian. “I do digital art and graphic design.” He pulled up his website on his phone and passed it over. “A little painting, still, but I’ve gotten into creating three-dimensional spaces.”

John made appropriately impressed noises, but then asked more about his art with what appeared to be genuine interest. It wasn’t until he was walking back to his apartment that Julian realized just how much information John had casually pulled from him through their conversation. 

He was feeling relaxed when John glanced up at something behind his head and said, “That’s pretty much what I have for time with you, but--man, you’re fine.” He grinned. “If you don’t mind saying so, any family would be lucky to have you as their donor.”

“Um, thanks,” he said.

“I’m going to see if any of the rooms are open, they can get your sample now, save you a trip. Sit tight, okay?”

“Sure,” Julian said. Where else was he gonna go? 

He was craving his magazine again when the buzzing started.

It took him half a second to realize that the fire alarm was going off. _Well, shit._ He got up and followed the flashing lights to the EXIT sign, and joined the crowd in the parking lot. The pretty nurse was nowhere to be seen, but he did catch sight of John, talking to a tall, thin man with dark hair and glasses. "Um, hey," he said, walking over. "Is this...like, do you think it's an actual fire?"

John sighed. "Your guess is as good as mine."

The dark-haired man said, "They told me that they were going to be re-wiring something in the basement today. Let's hope they just knocked something loose."

"You going to be all right to wait around?" John asked him.

"Yeah, I came when I didn't have a shift."

"This is Theo," John said. "He's in the lab. This is Julian, I was just trying to get him a room."

Theo turned to him, and that was the first look Julian got at the man's pale green eyes, shielded by wire-rimmed glasses. They were almost aggressively intelligent, and Julian felt like he was getting measured up. "First test?"

Julian nodded. "I guess you make sure I'm, like, fertile enough?"

"We do a rather extensive panel," he said. "But most of the hard work is on our end. It takes a few days for us to go through the initial tests, and then we analyze DNA...about a month in total. Then it's just a question of timing when you'll donate, that sort of thing."

"Will I see you again?" Julian asked John.

"Not unless something goes wrong or you're not feeling right about anything," he said. "I'm here if you just want to talk, anything like that. But it's not a requirement."

Theo was still looking at Julian, almost like he was familiar. Julian took a second glance; short dark hair, sharp cheekbones, pretty mouth. "I don't think we've met," he said.

"No," Theo said, thoughtfully. "Your face--something about your face is familiar, but I don't recognize your voice. I apologize."

Julian shrugged it off; wasn’t like being stared at by a good-looking guy was a bad thing. "I think I've got one of those faces."

John was looking between them, almost like he wanted to say something, but then a woman got his attention with the all-clear and they went back in.

If, instead of the hot blonde he'd originally been planning on, he watched a video with a pale, dark-haired man who took his glasses off to suck dick, well...that was his business.

 

They called him back three days later. They didn’t ask him not to jerk off or anything, none of which gave Julian much confidence, though he kept hoping they’d just spilled his cup and wanted to get a new sample in before the weekend. When the nurse (still pretty, but a guy this time) walked him in to see John, all the little alarm bells started ringing loud.

"What's wrong with me?" he asked.

"There's nothing wrong with you," John said. "Sit down."

Julian pulled out the chair and perched on it. Damned if he was gonna settle in for this. He wasn't about to cry or get his hand held or any of that bullshit. "I wouldn't be seeing you if there wasn't something wrong."

"You're perfectly healthy," John said. "You know that. You'll make a great father someday, if you want to be. It's...just not going to be with your sperm."

They'd told him there were a thousand minor things that could knock him out. Recessive genes, that kind of shit. But John sounded a lot more final than that. 

_It’s fine. I didn’t--did I want kids?_ “What’s--what’s wrong?”

"You've got...long story short, your swimmers won't swim. We have a long report for you, you can take it to your doctor if you want." John tapped a folder on his desk. "There's a lot of technical terms in there, but I’m trying to keep it simple, because it’s bad news and you’re probably not in any mood for details. Your motility rate--it's less than five percent. Here at the clinic, we don't even try with guys who have less than 25% motility, we refer to a donor right away. It's...possible there could be other factors, but the motility issue is so obvious that we didn't bother testing for those."

"So they just--what? Stand around?" It seemed so weird. Like his body was playing some kind of joke on him.

"They don't really move much at all," John said. "And sperm that don't move...they don't fertilize eggs." He looked down at the folder. "Most guys...well, we all like to think we can do anything, right? But it’s not that uncommon. They figure it's about 7% of all men, maybe more since some guys don't try having kids at all."

Julian’s eyes were still on the report. It seemed so cold. Final. "And there's no chance anything was mixed up, like with the fire alarm, or--"

"We're very good at what we do here," John said, gently. "I'm sorry. I really am. And I know the money would've been nice. What we normally do is--"

Julian shook his head. "No," he said. "I--I'm just gonna go home."

John looked disappointed, but not really surprised. "If you could hear me out--"

"I already wasted my T fare," Julian said, getting up and pushing the chair back in place. "I'm not gonna waste my time too."

John shoved a card into his hand. “Take this, at least,” he said. “Just in case. Please.”

Julian curled his fingers around it, shoving it in his pocket. "I'm fine," he said. "You’re a decent guy. But I’m fine."

"Please, could we--just five minutes," he said.

Julian was already gone. Fucking waste of two days' work and four T rides. It didn't matter, anyway. Wasn't like he even had a girlfriend. He felt like a damn sucker for paying for Ophelia Walker's abortion back in high school. Dumb dead sperm. Useless.

He went to the bar early and had a couple of beers. There were some college games on, so he pretended to be interested in them for a while.

He hadn’t even _wanted_ kids. They were just trouble. Who needed that?

It was close to six when he made it home, a little woozy from too much beer on an empty stomach. He called for a pizza and turned on the TV. 

There was a game on. Basketball. If someone had put a gun to his head and asked him to name which teams were playing, he wouldn't have managed it, but it was the comforting kind of noise. The pizza came and sobered him up a little.

There was another knock at the door. Huh. He thought he'd paid the guy enough. Tipped him, too. Julian got up anyway and cracked the door open.

It was the pretty tech from the clinic. “Hello,” he said. “May I come in?”

If it had been John, cheerful, worried John, Julian would have slammed the door. If he hadn't been so pretty, Julian probably still would have slammed the door. But it wasn't, and he was, so Julian undid the chain and let him in.

"Thank you," he said. He was wearing a button-up white shirt under a butter-yellow sweater. The collar looked like it'd been ironed. Julian thought about the grubby New Found Glory t-shirt he was wearing. "How are you?"

"Hopin' to hear you tell me there's a mix-up, if you want to know the truth," Julian said, locking the door back behind him.

Theo pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I don't make those kinds of mistakes, I'm afraid." 

"Theo," he said. "Right? You want a beer?"

"Er, yes. Yes, Theo. No thank you to the beer." Theo was glancing around Julian's place like he already regretted coming in. It wasn't the neatest, sure, but Mr. Pretty Eyes was the one who'd wanted in. He couldn't complain now.

"So why are you here?"

"I--" He looked at the floor, then seemed to regret it. His eyes went back up to meet Julian's through his glasses. "Your next of kin was your supervisor at the restaurant. I thought--"

There was so much fucked up in this that Julian could barely wrap his head around the beginning of it. "What, you just came in here for pity? Because I already--"

"No," he said. "It's...I could be fired, if they knew I'd come here. I--" His hands twisted together. 

Julian couldn't read the expression on his face. "I’m not a charity case."

"No," he said. "It's not that. You’re just--" More twisting. 

Julian grabbed his hands, to still them. 

Theo looked into his face. Shit, he looked good. _Beautiful._ Like some kind of sculpture.

The TV was still on, yelling about something. It didn't matter.

"I'm sorry," Theo said, and it was almost a whisper. "I shouldn't have--"

Julian kissed him, and maybe it was just to stop him from freaking out. 

Theo kissed him back, hard, eager, grabbing handfuls of his t-shirt, pulling him close, his breath sour and hot. He had a good body under the sweater, and he was a hell of a lot stronger than he looked. And he was _hungry._

They fell back into the couch, the old springs creaking under their shared weight. Theo's back was against the cushions. He put one strong hand on the back of Julian's head and pulled him down again for another kiss, their mouths crushing together. Julian's face banged into Theo's glasses, and Theo ripped them off. Julian heard the clatter as they dropped to the floor.

Part of Julian had been pissed off since he saw John in the office. Now he had something to focus the anger, the energy on, and he yanked at the hem of Theo's _(soft, expensive)_ sweater, getting his hands under his shirt, finally finding bare skin. He found a nipple and tweaked it, and Theo writhed under his touch. Julian nipped at the nape of Theo's neck. 

"Wait," Theo said, pushing Julian up. "Let me--" He pulled his shirt, sweater and all, over his head. The flickering light from the tv played over his chest. Julian dipped his head down and licked at his collarbone. Theo moaned and pulled at Julian's own t-shirt. 

Julian fumbled with Theo's belt and then the buttons of his fly, and then his cock was hard, leaking, in Julian's hand. "I'll fuck you," he said. "You want that?"

Theo nodded, panting.

Julian yanked at Theo's pants--nice fabric, sharp crease--and hauled them and his boxers off. Those got shoved onto the floor too. "Turn over," he said.

"Your couch is disgusting," Theo said.

"Bed's no better," Julian said. "Turn over."

This time, he did, and Julian ran his hands over Theo's pale, perfect ass. _Fuck._ He'd met this guy _once_ before. And Theo _followed him home._ What the hell was he--

Fuck it. Fuck it, he'd picked up girls in bars that weren't half this hot. A guy or two, once or twice. They hadn't looked like this. Hadn't smelled like soap and whiskey. Hadn't make his heart pound like it was about to pop out of his chest. 

He let Theo get up on all fours. Fuck, he had lotion--something--somewhere--the table next to the couch had a bunch of shit on it, remote, keys, empty beer bottle--

His hands found the tube of lotion. There. Good. Theo was making needy, thick noises into the couch cushions. Julian took his hips, shifted them, greased up his fingers. Slid them in.

Theo was hot, and Julian could feel his pulse from the inside, pounding almost in time with Julian's own. Fuck. _Fuck._ If he wasn't careful, he was going to lose it before he even got his dick wet. He got his fly open one-handed. He didn't dare jack himself harder; sparks were already flying through his body. It didn't matter how fucked up this was. He wanted it.

He found the sweet spot, and Theo cursed into the cushions. 

"Yeah," Julian said, because that was about what he could manage, and slid his fingers back out. He braced himself and slid in easy, Theo hot and tight and perfect around him, his hands on Theo's hips as he thrust, hot, hard, deep. 

This was better than jerking off in a booth. A hell of a lot better. 

He reached around and jerked Theo for a second, holding the rest of his body still. Theo was panting, almost whimpering. Shit. Julian hadn't had anything this fucking good in a long, long time.

"Please," Theo said into the cushions, and Julian _moved_ again, and that was enough to send them both tumbling over the edge, Julian spilling into his hand, white light burning at the edges of his vision. 

"So," Julian said, when he caught his breath. "You...you do this often?"

"Never," Theo said, his face still in the cushions. "Might--can you let me up?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure." Julian scrambled up, and Theo fled toward his bathroom. Julian pulled his pants up and washed his dick off in the kitchen sink like the class act he was. Then he went back into the living room and turned off the TV. "You sure you don't want a beer?" he called into the bathroom.

"You don't have any wine, do you?"

"I've got bourbon, that count?"

"I'll have a beer."

Julian pulled a pair of bottles out of the fridge and carried them back out to the living room. He shoved the last of the shit off the couch and took the empty pizza box out to the garbage, then got Theo's pants and glasses off the floor.

Theo came back in wearing his underwear. Shit, he looked good. 

"Never, huh?"

"No," Theo said. "Never."

"So why me?"

"I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you," Theo said, taking his glasses from Julian's hand. He leaned close to Julian and kissed him again, less passionately this time. It still felt good, even though Julian guessed neither of them were in any shape for a second round.

"So it wasn't just that I was so sexy you had to have me?"

Theo looked different with his glasses back on. Or maybe he looked more like Julian expected. "That may have been part of it." He picked up the beer Julian offered and drank a third of the bottle in one pull. "I...I really haven't done anything like this before." He sank down on the couch.

"That might be wet--um." Julian looked at him. Carefully, this time. Underneath the pretty was a guy who looked like he'd been running like hell from something. Julian had just been too fucked up to notice, or maybe Theo had been hiding it better. 

Theo put the bottle up to his forehead and closed his eyes. "I feel like I should apologize," he said.

"I don't know," Julian said. He didn't. This had been some kind of fucking day. "What for?"

"...following you home? Violating HIPPA?" He took another long pull of beer. "And I'm terrible at small talk."

"I didn't say no." He sat next to Theo on the couch, though he was careful not to sit in a wet spot, and started on his own beer. 

It wasn't entirely bad, sitting next to the prettiest guy he'd seen all week, drinking in silence. In fact, it felt normal so quickly he didn't even notice when Theo fell asleep against his shoulder. Julian finished his beer, then shoved Theo a couple of times. No effect. Probably drank that beer too fast, on top of whatever else he’d had tonight.

 _What the hell,_ Julian said to himself, and got his arm under Theo's to pull him to his feet and over to bed.

 

Someone was cooking in his kitchen when he woke up.

Someone...

Someone was cooking. In his kitchen.

In _his_ kitchen.

Julian blinked at the indentation in the bed where someone had clearly spent the night and pressed rewind in his head.

...Theo.

Theo was cooking. In his kitchen.

This was the weirdest morning after he'd ever had, which made sense, considering how fucked up the night before had been. But whatever was in the kitchen smelled good.

Julian's apartment was small. It had been cut up from some Victorian monster mansion, so it was all tiny rooms and little corners. The bathroom was next to the kitchen. Julian poked his head around the corner before he went in to piss, and there was Theo, in his nice pants and Julian’s New Found Glory t-shirt, fussing at something in his frying pan. "Hey," he said.

"Good morning," Theo said, without turning his head. "You're not allergic to anything, are you? I had to run to the store...you're out of everything but beer."

"There's milk," Julian said, scratching at his hair. It felt stringy; he was overdue to wash it.

"No," Theo said. "There was a curdled substance that had once been milk. Any allergies?"

"Nah. Thanks for--thanks for cooking."

"It's the least I can do," Theo said. "Thank you for...for last night."

"Just--I gotta piss," Julian said. "Don't...run out or whatever, okay?"

Theo turned back to him, those pretty goddamn eyes under the glasses grabbing Julian’s and holding on. "I wasn't going to."

"Okay," Julian said. "Well. Good."

Theo was there, as promised, when he came back out, sitting at Julian’s suspiciously clear kitchen table. Julian wondered where the bills and junk mail had gone. But in their place there were two plates full of bacon and scrambled eggs with cheese and peppers, and some napkins Julian didn't even recognize. Had he bought napkins? Did he just have a one-night stand with a guy who bought _napkins_ the morning after?

"Thanks," Julian said, which seemed easiest.

"It was the least I could do. I wasn't sure if you had to work, but--"

"Evening shift," he said. "I don't have to be there until two, it's fine."

"Well...good."

They ate in silence for a few moments until Julian couldn't stand it any longer. "Last night you said I wouldn't believe you. If you told me why me."

"I'm not sure you would," he said.

"Try me."

Theo's eyes went down to his eggs.

"Come on," Julian said. "You came in here, asked me to fuck you, now you've made breakfast. You owe me _some_ kind of answer."

"I wanted to kill myself," he said.

Julian's brain was having to work _way too fucking hard_ for this time of the morning. Whatever time it actually was. "Say that again."

"It's not--" Theo sighed. He looked up from his plate. "I've...it's a long story. I'll give you the short version. More than a year ago, I--lost everything. My career, my beloved. I started over in the lab and tried to talk to as few people as I could. Of course--well, you've met John."

"I've met John."

Theo put his fork down and folded his hands together, prim as a schoolteacher. "He's very kind. Not particularly good at taking 'no' for an answer. So--I suppose he's been trying to drag me back to life." He glanced down at this hands. "And I suppose I've resisted. Last night...well. We didn't have a fight, precisely, but he didn't have much patience for my resistance. I started wondering why I was even bothering. Why I was still putting one foot in front of the other. It wasn’t the first time that taking my own life had occurred to me, but--” He swallowed. “It's ridiculous, really. John had put his files away for the night, and one was sticking out, and I knew that _someone_ would notice the cabinet wasn't completely locked and he’d get written up, so I opened up the file cabinet--"

"Mine was the one sticking out?"

Theo's smile was nice, even when it was self-deprecating. "No. What was sticking out was a family of three whose patriarch had suffered an injury in the armed services. I had to go looking for your file."

Julian took a second to think through that. "Why?"

"Because I decided I didn't want to die," he said.

"You came here to get fucked because you didn't want to die?"

"No," he said. "Yes. Well...I suppose I did, but I can't say my thoughts were in such clear order at the time. I just knew I wanted to live, and I wanted to see you. I'm not sure I could have separated out the two impulses if I'd tried to."

"You're right." Julian said, "I wouldn't have believed you last night."

Theo’s smile was faint, but it was there. "Do you believe me now?"

"Maybe," he said. "I believe you can cook."

"That's a start, isn't it?" 

"Probably why I picked you up from that bar."

Theo frowned. "Bar?"

"Yeah," he said, carefully. "I recognized you from the clinic when I saw you at the bar."

The confusion deepened. "Which...what bar?"

"Just pick one, I ain't a regular anywhere."

"So...a gay bar?"

Shit, was he speaking an alien language? "Um, Rico's. It's not that far from the clinic. Not really a gay bar, but they're cool." He’d always had decent luck at Rico’s. "So we met there. I took you home. Okay?"

Theo's eyes widened as it finally sunk in. "Okay. But, really, you don't have to--"

Julian shrugged. "You saved me from a shit night, right? And you made breakfast."

Was he _blushing?_ "I'm glad you liked it. I...just guessed, really."

"So what now?"

Theo had relaxed enough to unfold his hands. "Now," he said, "I have the day off, and you go to work. I'm glad to do the dishes before I go."

"Do you want to see me again? Or was this--was this a 'glad I'm not dead' fuck?"

Theo genuinely smiled at that. "I can't pretend I thought that far ahead."

"I'm on until ten," he said. "Maybe we could go out after that. Have, like a normal date. Closer to normal, anyway."

"I'd like that," Theo said. "But I will need your number."

"You didn't get it when you pulled my file?"

"I certainly didn’t think _that_ far ahead," he said.

"I can put it in your phone."

"You're very kind," Theo said. "That wasn't in your file."

"There's a lot of stuff that wasn't in my file," Julian said, and waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe I’ll show you.”

“I think I’d like that,” Theo said, and went back to his eggs.


End file.
